In Sickness and In Health
by TT-5
Summary: 1921 - Foyle Flashback - DS Christopher Foyle had had a very long two days what he desperately wanted was to kiss his wife, make his son giggle, sit in his armchair and have a cup of tea but sometimes we don't always get what we want.
1. Chapter 1

1921

It was over 48 hours since DS Christopher Foyle had been home or seen his wife and son, thanks to the investigation that had sent him back and forth across the South Coast. He'd been out of town last night and hadn't even been able to call Rosalind to say goodnight because it was too late when he finally got to his lodgings.

In short Christopher was tired as he slowly climbed the steps of #31 Steep Lane and what he desperately wanted was to kiss his wife, make his son giggle, sit in his armchair and have a cup of tea.

It was early afternoon, Inspector Bradshaw having told him to 'get off home" so he opened the door quietly, not wanting to wake Andrew if he were down for his nap. He wasn't. The crying that met Foyle's ears as soon as he came through the door was proof of that and he bit back a sigh.

Reminding himself that Andrew was only two and had no way of knowing that he'd had an exhausting two days Foyle closed the door quietly and hung up his hat and coat before going to see what the matter was.

He moved quietly up the stairs, following Andrew's crying and the sound of Rosalind pacing. They were in Andrew's room and Rosalind had her back to him when he stepped into the doorway but Andrew, who was crying fretfully into his mother's shoulder, saw him. "Dada"

"I know Andrew, I want Daddy too" Rosalind sighed her back still to the door, "he'll be home soon."

Her voice sounded oddly rough and Foyle frowned as he stepped into the room, "Rose?"

She turned, her shoulders immediately relaxing as she gave him a tired smile, " _Christopher_." She was pale with dark circles under her eyes, and the wisps of hair escaping her loose braid only added to how exhausted she looked.

Foyle's frown deepened as he crossed to her, "Rose, what's happened? What's wrong?"

"Dada!" Andrew demanded before Rosalind could answer, squirming in his mother's arms and reaching for his father.

Foyle took him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and frowning worriedly at the heat that seemed to be radiating off it. "Rose?"

Rosalind sighed, her shoulders slumping, "He's got an ear infection Christopher, he kept trying to hit his ear yesterday so I took him to Dr. White and he confirmed it. He gave me something to help with the fever and the pain and said it should pass in a few days."

Her voice was rough and she turned her head to cough into the crook of her elbow. "Sorry" she murmured after she'd managed to catch her breath.

"Rose..."

"He just won't settle, and I know he's uncomfortable but I don't know what else to do and…"

"Rosalind." She stopped, surprised by his use of her full name which he so rarely did outside of introductions. Foyle smiled gently at her although his eyes were dark with worry. "You've done amazingly love, anyone could see that but you're exhausted and ill. Why didn't you call me?"

"Because I knew that anything that kept you at work for two days must be very important."

Foyle shook his head firmly, his face a picture of consternation, "Nothing, _nothing_ , is more important to me then you and Andrew. Rose I thought you knew…"

Rosalind smiled softly as she placed a finger to his lips, silencing him, "I do Christopher but what you do is important too and I knew you'd come home to us just as soon as you could. I'd kiss you but I'm worried I might get you sick too."

Foyle smiled and kissed her anyway, "Think it's a bit late for that love, if you and Andrew both have it I've already been exposed; I'd rather kiss my wife and take my chances."

Rosalind laughed softly but it became a cough and Foyle frowned deeply, chewing worriedly on his cheek as she turned her head away. Before he could speak though Andrew began to cry gustily again, forcing him to look away from his wife focus once more on their son.

He shifted Andrew so he could bring one hand up to cup the back of his head as he began to pace, "I know your ear hurts Andrew I'm sorry, shh…shhh son Daddy's got you…"

It took a bit but finally Andrew quieted, snuffling rather then crying into his father's neck. Foyle kissed the top of his head again and then glanced at his wife, "Why don't you go and lie down love? I'll bring you some tea."

"I'm…" Rosalind began

"Exhausted and ill." Foyle said firmly, "You've done a wonderful job taking care of Andrew Rose, just like you always do, but now it's time to let me take care of both of you. Why not take a bath if you don't want to sleep just yet? The steam will help your cough."

Rosalind's eyes softened and she leaned up to kiss his cheek, "I love you."

Foyle smiled, "I love you too my darling, in sickness and in health but lets get you and Andrew healthy again hmm?"

She laughed softly and pressed a kiss to Andrew's head, "I think I'm more tired than ill so you mustn't fret." Foyle opened his mouth and she kissed him chastely, "I'll go and start the bath."

"Good. Andrew and I will go and make tea, maybe find a biscuit?"

The last was directed at their son who was sucking tiredly on his thumb, sore ear pressed firmly against his father's shoulder. He looked up at the sound of his father's voice, "bicit?"

Foyle nodded as he kissed his forehead to judge his temperature. "That's right, a biscuit and some warm milk and then maybe something for your fever?"

He glanced questioningly at Rosalind who nodded, "He can have more at 3pm."

Foyle nodded, "Good, we'll go and see to all that while you get into the bath."


	2. Chapter 2

Several hours later Rosalind was sitting in bed, sipping the cup of tea that her husband had brought her and listening to the sound of his steady pacing from the floor below.

After his biscuit, warm milk and another dose of pain medication, Andrew had slept for just over an hour. That had given Christopher enough time to wash, change and have a cup of tea while they discussed the past two days.

Unfortunately Andrew had started crying again just as Christopher brought her a second cup and he had kissed her chastely and left the room to comfort their son. That was almost an hour ago now and Andrew's cries had quieted but not quite ceased as Christopher patiently paced back and forth speaking to him in the gentle, warm voice that Rosalind knew he reserved for them alone.

He was so good, her Christopher, that some days it felt too good to be true. He adored her, their son and the life they were building together. He had an important and difficult job that worried her sometimes but he excelled at it, and he was doing so much good.

Some men would have used such a job as an excuse to sit by the fire and smoke and expect to have their slippers brought to them but not Christopher. He came home and played with Andrew, did the washing up and anything else that he saw needed doing.

When she listened to the other women at church complain about their husbands and then wait expectantly for her to add her grievances Rosalind always felt awkward. She didn't have anything to complain about but to say as much would be not be well received so she usually said something about Christopher working long hours sometimes and hoped that would satisfy them.

Rosalind smiled as she heard Christopher begin to sing softly, he had a lovely deep voice but until Andrew was born she'd never heard him sing outside of church. She placed her now empty teacup on the bedside table and snuggled further under the covers, her eyes sliding closed of their own accord.

Fifteen minutes later Foyle stood in the doorway to their bedroom, lips pulling down into a smile as he studied his sleeping wife. He longed to crawl in beside her but their son was asleep in his arms and he was worried that if he tried to put him down Andrew would wake up and start crying again.

So instead he gave his wife one last lingering glance and taking a blanket from the airing cupboard, headed downstairs for a night spent on the settee. It was far from his first night up with his son and Foyle knew it wouldn't be his last. "One of these days you're going to be too big for this aren't you Andrew?"

Andrew's only response was to nuzzle his head more firmly into Foyle's chest and Foyle couldn't help pressing a kiss to his soft hair. For a moment he wished Andrew could stay this small forever, he wanted his arms to always be enough to keep his boy safe but he knew that wasn't realistic.

"I'll always try son," he murmured, "even when you're taller than me and a man in your own right I want you to know you can come to me and I'll always do everything I can to keep you safe and well."

Andrew shifted again, mumbling "Dada" sleepily and Foyle pressed another kiss to the top of his head as he settled them on the settee.

"That's right Andrew, Daddy's got you. Just rest son." And closing his eyes Foyle let himself fall asleep with the comforting warmth of his son resting on his chest.

That was how Rosalind found them, both fast asleep on the settee, when she came downstairs for a cup of tea after her cough woke her in the middle of the night. She smiled softly at the sight and crossed quietly to the settee to tuck her boys in more snugly.

She couldn't help lingering for a moment, in this light Andrew looked so like his father, she could only pray he would grow into as good a man. It was a daunting task when she stopped to think about it, to raise her little boy into a man, but with Christopher by her side it seemed manageable.

Unable to resist she brushed a light kiss against Christopher's forehead and then crept quietly to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

Dawn was only just starting to creep through the curtains when the insistent squirming and babbling of his son woke Foyle and he opened his eyes to find Andrew staring at him. He smiled, "Good morning Andrew"

"Dada! Ba An ow." Andrew was pulling at his right ear and Foyle sighed as he carefully swung his feet off the settee and sat up, wincing as his back protested.

"Does your ear hurt Andrew?"

"An ow" Andrew replied hand going to his right ear again and Foyle frowned. Getting to his feet he shifted Andrew so he could place his own hand over Andrew's sore ear to stop Andrew pulling at it.

"I'm sorry Andrew, let's get you a clean nappy and then you can have some breakfast and some medicine to make your ear feel better." Andrew snuggled close and gave a whine of discomfort that made Foyle's heartache.

He kissed the top of Andrew's head, "I know it hurts son, I'm sorry…mhmm…let's try not to wake Mummy alright? She needs her rest."

Andrew soon had a clean nappy and Foyle was trying to make breakfast with his son on his hip. Normally he would have just put Andrew in his high chair but when Andrew was ill he clung to his parents like a small kola bear and Foyle didn't want to risk waking Rose by putting him down, incase he started to wail.

So instead he started porridge and tea and put a soft blanket in the warming oven, all the while carrying on a mostly one-sided conversation with his son. Andrew was starting to speak in somewhat more understandable syllables but this morning instead of babbling away like normal, he was sucking his thumb head resting on Foyle's chest.

Foyle chewed on his cheek as he waited impatiently for the porridge to finish and the blanket to warm. He couldn't give Andrew more medication on an empty stomach and he very much hoped that he wouldn't be fussy about eating as he sometimes was when he wasn't feeling well.

The blanket was ready before the porridge so Foyle draped it over one shoulder and then shifted Andrew so his sore ear was resting against the additional warmth. The effect was immediate, Andrew relaxed against him with a little sigh and Foyle kissed the top of his head as he stirred the porridge.

When Rosalind came down twenty minutes later she found her boys sitting at the kitchen table, Andrew in Christopher's lap, eating their breakfast. She couldn't help giggling as she watched Christopher raise his eyebrows and make airplane noises as he delivered a spoonful of porridge into Andrew's mouth.

They both looked up at the sound and smiled warmly, "Mama!" Andrew crowed while Christopher's lips pulled down into a smile, "Morning love."

Rosalind smiled back and crossed to the table, "Good morning, how are my favourite boys this morning?"

"Feeling a bit better now that we've had some breakfast, isn't that right Andrew?"

"An plane zoom!" Andrew explained with almost his usual level of enthusiasm and Rosalind smiled as she kissed his forehead to check for a fever.

"Did an airplane bring you your porridge? What a luck boy you are!"

Andrew smiled but then put a hand to his ear and frowned at his mother, "Ow Mama."

Rosalind sighed and ran a gentle hand through his hair, "I'm sorry Andrew, once you've finished eating you can have some of your medicine."

Andrew's frown deepened, 'No ick!"

Foyle sighed, "It will make you feel better Andrew, and you can have some cocoa with it, that doesn't sound too bad does it?"

"Cocoa? Bicit?"

"Yes, if you're a good boy and eat your porridge and take your medicine." Andrew considered this with more gravity than a two-year-old ought to posses and then nodded. Foyle smiled and offered him another spoonful of porridge before looking up at his wife, "How are you feeling this morning Rose?'

"Better, I think I was just tired. I can take him now so you can go and get ready for work."

Foyle shook his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, "I'm not going to work today love; Bradshaw said I could have the day off if I wanted because of all the overtime from the last case and I've decided to take him up on it. I'll call the station after breakfast to let them know."

Rosalind looked like she was about to protest but Foyle caught her hand and gave it a squeeze, "I've hardly seen you both for two days Rose, I'd want to stay home today even if you and Andrew weren't ill."

Rosalind smiled and kissed him softly, "I love you Christopher, so very, very much."

Foyle kissed her back, "I love you too Rose," he paused and looked down at their son, "both of you."

* * *

A/N: My thoughts are with the people of Italy following the deadly earthquake there last night and those in Louisiana who continue to deal with the devastating flooding.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the day passed quietly with Andrew clinging stubbornly to his father, something Foyle was happy to oblige. Once Andrew had learned to walk he started to run within a week and the amount of time he got to spend with his son in his arms had decreased sharply.

Whenever Andrew was ill though he wanted to be held so Foyle spent the day reading storybooks and pacing up and down when Andrew's ear was too sore for him to settle. Rosalind, at Foyle's insistence, spent the day resting, even managing to take a nap on the settee when Andrew fell asleep in his father's arms.

By nightfall Foyle was more tired than he felt he should after a day off, but he reasoned that it was probably a combination of the end-of-case let down and taking care of Andrew and Rose all day.

Andrew was still fairly miserable but after catching up on the rest she had missed Rosalind seemed almost back to normal, which Foyle was very glad of. He had to go into work tomorrow and he hated the idea of leaving Rose to take care of Andrew when she was ill too.

When he woke early the next morning, once again stretched out on the settee with Andrew snuffling into his shoulder, Foyle's throat felt a bit sore but he put it down to the chill in the room and quietly got up to take care of Andrew and start breakfast.

By the time he left for the station, it had occurred to Foyle more than once that he might have caught whatever Rosalind and Andrew had. But even if he had there was a mountain of paperwork waiting on his desk that he need to see to before the weekend so he ignored the tickle at the back of his throat, kissed Andrew and Rose and went to work.

By noon his throat felt raw and the occasional coughing fits only made it worse and he didn't think the paperwork he had been slogging through all morning was entirely to blame for the way his head was pounding. Foyle sighed and got to his feet. 'P _robably just tired and hungry; lunch should help_.'

He was almost out of the station when he ran into Inspector Bradshaw who frowned at him, "Foyle, are you all right?"

"Yes Sir."

Bradshaw looked him up and down and shook his head; "I wasn't born yesterday Foyle, you look like hell. You've finished most of the paperwork for the case?"

Foyle nodded, "Yes Sir, just a few things I was going to see to after lunch."

"Right, bring it to my office before you leave and then go home."

Foyle opened his mouth to protest but Bradshaw held up a hand. "You did a good job on the last case Foyle but I can see that it cost you, can't have you infecting the rest of the station. It's Friday anyway, get on home and let your wife take care of you. I don't want to see you till Monday morning."

Foyle hesitated for a moment and then nodded, "If you're sure Sir?" The inspector nodded, "Thank you Sir, I'll fetch that paperwork now."

When he came through the front door, the first thing he heard was Andrew crying and the throbbing in his head increased sharply. "Christopher?" Rosalind called from upstairs and Foyle hung his hat and coat before going up.

Rosalind was standing in the doorway of their room, Andrew on her hip, when he reached the landing and immediately frowned at the sight of him. "Christopher, are you all right?"

Foyle nodded, forcing a weak smile as he crossed to her and held out his arms to take Andrew, "I'm fine Rose, just tired."

"Dada!" Andrew cried and Foyle couldn't help wincing at the volume as he pressed a kiss to the top of Andrew's head. "Hello Andrew"

Rosalind's frown deepened, "You've got a headache don't you?"

There was no point denying it, not when she knew him so well. "Yes a bit of one, but I'll be fine Rose."

Rosalind still looked concern as she moved to kiss his cheek, "Are you just home for lunch?"

"Err no, Bradshaw gave me the rest of the day off, said he didn't want me infecting the rest of the station if I were ill, which I'm not."

"Well in that case we'd better take good care of Daddy so he's feeling better by Monday hadn't we Andrew?" Rosalind murmured as she kissed Foyle again and then the top of Andrew's head.

"Dada ow?" Andrew asked, looking between his parents, his little brow furrowing in concern.

His parents smiled reassuringly at him, "That's right Andrew, but don't worry we'll take good care of Daddy, just like he took care of us."

"Tiss?" Andrew asked, "Tiss Dada owie?"

Rosalind smiled and leaned up to press a kiss to Foyle's temple, "Good idea Andrew, I think a cup of tea, some lunch and maybe some aspirin will help too." Andrew nodded, and pressed a rather wet kiss to his father's cheekbone, "Tiss Dada!"

Foyle smiled and kissed Andrew and then Rosalind, "Thank you both, I feel better already."

Rosalind smiled and headed downstairs while Andrew snuggled closer, resting his head on Foyle's shoulder, one hand creeping up to play with his collar. "Twains?"

"How about we have lunch first?" Foyle suggested, "then we can read all about trains." Andrew nodded against his shoulder and Foyle couldn't help pressing another kiss to the top of his head as he carried his son back downstairs.

An hour later Rosalind emerged from tidying the kitchen to find both of her boys fast asleep in Christopher's armchair. She smiled fondly and quietly crossed to remove the book from Christopher's lax hand and spread a blanket over them both.

Christopher stirred, adjusting his grip on Andrew as the little boy pressed his sore ear more firmly into his father's chest before settling again. Rosalind watched them for few more minutes and then crept from the room, leaving them to the sleep they clearly both needed.

That night found them all in master bedroom as Rosalind had insisted that Christopher needed to sleep in a proper bed and Andrew refused to settle unless he was in his father's arms. So Foyle fell asleep with his son on his chest and his wife curled into his side and a smile on his lips.

Coming home to an ill wife and son hadn't been the ideal end to a long week, but Foyle knew as long as he had them both to come home too, there was nothing they couldn't weather together.

The End


End file.
